


Both sides now

by TheRomanticcynic



Category: Doc Martin (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 04:10:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1141253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRomanticcynic/pseuds/TheRomanticcynic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin contemplates his life and his relationship with Louisa in the aftermath of the concert. Don't own Martin, Louisa or Joni Mitchell or "both side now" for that matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Both sides now

Interesting concept, is it better for the love of your life to be decomposing in a box, six feet under, than alive and well but unwilling to be a part of your life?   
I wouldn’t rather her dead, for it is only the brief glimpses that have sustained me. Though, this feeling, this heaviness bearing down on my chest, perhaps death would be more preferable.  
I think back to our first encounter, it was on a flight to what I like to call my purgatory; I was and possibly still am, running from my previous life. No malevolent behaviour; just failure, my failure. As we prepared to take off an attractive young woman sat opposite me. I was struck by her beauty, pale skin, dark hair and jade green eyes. Ah, her eyes, perhaps that is where our issues began. I noticed her right pupil wasn’t dilating as it should in the light. So I suppose my stare became uncomfortable, as she abruptly stood stating “you’ve got a problem!”  
Our second meeting wasn’t much better, my interview for a posting as a village G.P. in a remote village. Of course the young woman was on the panel, Louisa Glasson, a pillar of this community I was to minister to. She catches me out on a question, beautiful, intelligent and fiery. As I await the panels’ verdict she leaves the function room, warning me that “one slip up and I’m gone”. Before she can eviscerate me any further, I ask her about her eye and give my diagnosis. I hope that I’ve redeemed myself a little, and she no longer thinks me lecherous, I turn walk away, look back at her and walk straight into the door, so much for giving a good impression.   
After my position was confirmed and I was fully ensconced, we couldn’t help but bump into each other, one positive about a small village, probably the only positive.  
Once, before I knew, it was the glimpses that made my day. I’d stand on the hill overlooking the village, watching the locals doing what they do, and every so often she’d be there. What can I say, that miniscule glimpse would fill my day with hope and possibility. It sounds foolish now; how could it ever have worked?!   
Yet, there was something there, an attraction. I’d hoped against hope that it was mutual, and my hope was realised. We’d attempted dates; even shared a kiss, but with constant interruptions from the small minded villagers from the small village, we were doomed. The Fates conspired against us time and time again, and while I was discouraged and distracted, she was not.  
One date, a concert; her idea but just the opportunity to be away from prying eyes and overly interested villagers. So, we had our chance to be together, alone, in a wonderfully romantic setting, enhanced if it were possible, by the strains of a Baroque quartet. No fairy tale could have imagined this, gentlemen in black tie dress; ladies in elegant gowns, in the timeless grounds of a stately home. It seemed perfection had been attained and even the weather played its part, providing a cloudless blue sky and a breathtaking burnished red and orange sunset. What could possibly have gone wrong?   
I could and I did. Overwhelmed by the surrounds and the possibilities, my mouth overshot my brain. It happens, far too frequently for my liking. Yet, it seems I am powerless to stop it. And so generally I say very little, bordering on the mute, definitely perceived as rude. How can I explain that I was brought up in a house where children were not seen and were certainly not heard? After all I am a fully mature man.  
My social skills are “limited”, shall we say? God knows, I do realise it. Fellow professionals have even tried to diagnose me as having Asbergers’ Syndrome. So I may meet some of the criteria; but really, who doesn’t! Ok, I don’t get all the jokes, I don’t have any interest in pop culture; well, I do have a brain and a fully functioning one at that and I don’t suffer fools gladly. My personality “defects” are only glaringly apparent because I always seem to be surrounded by fools!  
I try to analyse and make sense of what happened after the concert. The atmosphere had noticeably cooled. I was at a loss, I realised that once again I’d put my foot in it. No, it couldn’t possibly just be attraction or the emotive nature of the music, it had to be a physical; tangible reason. I could have said nothing but no, the kiss caught me unawares. I was embarrassed and self-conscious; for the most part I was an idiot. As we parted she said “We’re not going anywhere” and with that she was gone from my car to her front door, as she looked back there was no anger but something much worse, disappointment.  
And now; I lay in bed, not in it but on it, fully clothed. I cannot close my eyes, for if I do I will see her, the hurt and disappointment in her eyes.   
How have I done this again? Why did I say what I said? No matter how factual it was. Hiding behind science and reason has been my saviour in the past, tonight it was my undoing. Can I revive this relationship? It’s more than that though, isn’t it? It’s… No! She is everything!  
Without her I am reduced to being the husk of a human I was before, before that day, when she first appeared on my horizon. She was right, on our first meeting, I have a problem. Now, I am nothing, I feel myself slipping away into darkness, into nothingness. Knowing that she was nearby, even to catch a glimpse, my world transformed into Technicolor.   
I am monochrome, I am….not.  
I hear voices in the street below, a couple walk home after a Friday night date. The thin paned windows allow audible snatches of the conversation; the easy back and forth, no pressure, no wrong words. I am an intelligent, educated and accomplished person but why does the ability to connect with ease to her seem impossible.  
I cannot think her name, it’s too raw. Now I must rise and divest myself of my suit and once more dress this shell to face the world, just a shell nothing more, with only glimpses to salve my shattered heart.  
As I look at the clock, I realise it is only 3 A.M., how can four hours seem like eternity? I drag myself out of bed; sleep eludes me, as does peace. I can only hope that the monotony and repetition of late night television will lull me into slumber or even a semi conscious state. Anything that will quieten the agonised roundabout of thought swirling in my brain.  
The first station that appears is one of those continuous music stations…. Welcome to Generico, where we all look and sound the same, I think. It’s comforting to know that heartbreak hasn’t quelled my disdain for “pop culture”. Still it’s slightly better than infomercials, only by degrees though.  
It is said that when you are happy, you hear music, but when you are sad, you listen to music. I suppose it could be true as I listen to Joni Mitchell, no, not the puerile pop I expected. She croons’ about clouds and love; something spurs me into action. I race down the stairs, thinking this cannot be how it ends; if I don’t so something now I will never forgive myself, I must at least try! I bolt out the door; down the hill I go, to salvage some hope.  
I knock on the door of the pretty white cottage, breathless from the sprint but more from anticipation. Thoughts race though my brain; Please open the door, please give me another chance, I can be better, I hope. I knock again; a little louder, my resolve ebbing as well as the adrenaline rush. Seconds tick by like hours, and then I hear an annoyed, slightly hoarse voice speaking from the upstairs window “It’s the middle of the night and I told you I didn’t want to see you anymore.”  
I step out from the portico and plead “Please, I’m sorry. I’m a fool and…and I love you, I think I have done from the first moment I saw you! Please forgive me, give me another chance…. I can’t bear to be without you.”  
Silence reigns for what seems like an eternity; then, slowly, she says “Tomorrow, Martin, we’ll talk tomorrow.”  
It’s not exactly what I‘d hoped for but it’s more than I deserve, tomorrow and hope.  
“Tears and fears and feeling proud  
To say “I love you” right out loud  
Dreams and schemes and circus crowds  
I’ve looked at life that way”


End file.
